


counting blessings

by oceanfrayed



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Baby Brain, District 4 (Hunger Games), Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Finnick Odair Lives, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Odesta Getting the Ending They Deserve, Post-Canon, Post-Series, happy wife happy life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26647849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanfrayed/pseuds/oceanfrayed
Summary: she obsesses at first.  mostly over the little things — like if he’s still breathing when she stirs in the night, or if he’s being too quiet while he is awake.  finnick keeps telling her not to worry.  he’s perfect, he says.  annie likes to think it’s safer this way.
Relationships: Annie Cresta & Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Odesta - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	counting blessings

**Author's Note:**

> tfw you haven't posted anything in two years and you come back to let loose a drabble you wrote ages ago, titling it the same exact thing as the first dinky work you published to this site when you were 15 🤡

she obsesses at first. mostly over the little things — like if he’s still breathing when she stirs in the night, or if he’s being too quiet while he is awake. finnick keeps telling her not to worry. he’s perfect, he says. annie likes to think it’s safer this way. 

her sea-green stare focuses on the baby intently, tongue caught between pearly whites and brows furrowed in concentration, index finger hopping along in rhythm to an old rhyme she’s long forgotten the words for, when his arms snake around her waist. she nearly jumps, lets out a shaky breath and relaxes when his chin touches down against her shoulder. touch is something she is still learning to get used to again.

“ you’re going to count yourself sick, you know, ” he says, and it’s more playful than chiding but she knows he’s right. 

annie nods along in response. she won’t look back at him as she speaks, “ maybe ... pero, I _like_ counting. ”

“ mhm, ” and he is laughing in that way of his. the way that tells her she is being too stubborn, that she’s overthinking something as simple as sunrise and sunset.

“ not funny, ” she mutters, turning to face him. tan palms flatten firm against his chest and annie steps in to close the small gap that parts them as the sea does two shores. maybe it doesn’t bother him as much because he is used to being right. maybe it is because it really isn’t that important at all. but she wants her baby to be beautiful. wants the reassurance that, for once, she’s done something good in this life. “ count with me. just one time. _please? ”_

and then it is he who nods as she rocks up onto tiptoes, presses a sweet kiss to his freckled cheek. a wordless _thank you._ it takes a moment for her to part, but when she feels ready she turns back toward the crib. just above hangs a mobile of hand-painted shells and glass-blown mal de ojos, dangling from woven seacord — annie’s idea, so that their son will always be protected. finnick shifts, slides his hand past her arms and over her own. his hips nestle against her lower back.

together, they count. one by one, each tiny finger and toe on the giggly newborn. and she is smiling by the time they reach twenty, as if she hadn’t come to the same conclusion on her own five times over. still, there’s that same wave of relief. it washes over her, calms her almost as much as his voice in her ear.

“ ann, ” he says, low and content. “ he’s _perfect. ”_

“ think so? ” annie turns her head, blinks up at him. the look in ocean eyes is not so far off; it’s right there in the moment. “ we did good, huh? ”

“ yeah, ” finnick nods, “ i’d say we did pretty damn good. ”


End file.
